Mr. Government, Imagine That?

A letter was hand delivered from the Government – thought they was still looking for some money but heard Social Security was being robbed, and the government was taking our money, giving it to others to pay the debt – then were in a deeper hole than we were yesterday; imagine that?

They haven’t given us a penny since they decided to blow up the Middle East. Imagine your long earned wages spent on bombs, bodies scattered around the ground of both old and young.

Bringing us back home, don’t they know the cost of bread, butter, and coffee – without caffeine no less – something about your brain cells kicking about your head. So wake us up – we just might know what the Government is up too – instead of mysterious letters without a return address – tried to send a note back, it came back instead to my address.

So my heart pumps faster with a cup of real coffee, and I don’t fall asleep in the middle of “Wheel of Fortune.” I may even know if my name was mentioned for a future guest – guess if I remembered when I took my pills the doctor ordered on time – I may even take the correct bus at noon; spending twelve dollars on a cab to travel five miles into town – Imagine that?

Might not miss our next appointment with just some caffeine in my blood – all that research gets into my doctor’s head from a few scientists involved with the Government.

Did you hear – N.Y. takes your money even if you drink water coming from some spa in Maine? Imagine that?

You keep paying high prices for gas, doesn’t matter that we fought those people across the ocean in some desert land where they were rich because of oil. Doesn’t matter that you took eight years to destroy your own country, and another four to try and improve the life here in America. Still the price of gas is high, and there’s not a thing we can do about it.

Those same people are going to travel in the summer to their resorts and in the winter to some ski lodge. Where am I going this year Mr. President, but to the market with less money, shocked by the prices of food, and bringing home less – then, the doctor yells at us when we don’t eat right. Oh, and those airplanes, can’t seem to keep the figures for the cost of a flight equal like the gasoline. They jump around like some jumping beans, and my children never visit us in Florida because they double and triple the price for them to travel, it just isn’t fair, you should tell the Congress.

Heard Medicare doesn’t want to cover many of the surgeries suggested for us retired people, because the New England Journal of Medicine mentioned it just doesn’t work. Are they in pain, can they walk through a store without having to sit for thirty minutes? Guess when we get older we aren’t what a doctor calls, priority.

The cost of hamburger is like taken a bite out of filet, and turkeys, the price is down until the winter comes and holidays, the cost will sky rocket like the fare on a plane. Doctor tells us to eat wheat bread, no more white – can’t tell you how long I heard, “Stay out of the sun,” now he tells me to get the sunshine, take a walk. He told me a few years ago I had little vitamin D in my blood, and then last week he told me that vitamin D, too much, can ruin your bones. Imagine that, it was so important because without D vitamin C just doesn’t work. Imagine all those fruits I spent my money on. Probably never did have D.

Never did like sugar in my soda, and Diet Pepsi was my drink of choice. Red wine is the drink to have while eating wheat bread, and weeds; those curly things instead of iceberg, and it’s those curly things this ole’ mouth can’t chew. Doc told me to lay off salt, so I look close as I shop; it takes me all day to read those small letters on a box, look’in for salt, or something called sodium.

Finally all those senior buses stopped running and I am left inside a twenty four hour market still reading those ingredients, costing us elders, those told how to eat in old age as the manager of the market tells us how to drive one of those carts – never told us batteries die. I have to remind him those displays with bright color mix up my vision with pretty advertising, shapes and sizes of far too many choices on one shelf. Talked them into announcing when the last senior bus was leaving so I didn’t have to shop all night. And pleaded with that same manager to keep those things we are suppose to eat at eye level so these old arms can reach.

Glasses aren’t part of my insurance, told the man at the check out – forgot my discount card. The doctors hope the government will hand over the grants for research, which is fine and dandy as long as the people who need the final outcome receive the benefits. I can’t believe all those things about research, twenty subjects, 30,000 patients suffering, seems like the odds are not with them. Okay so I am off the subject.

Those political people are always yaking on the television, making headlines every night but the old folks, we can’t sleep, eat, drink or drive a car. We can’t even spend the money that we saved, since the cabs upped their fares; last week my friend took a cab to a casino, just for fun, cost him over thirty two dollars to get there, six miles from his home. Have fun, what else is there Mr. President. We can’t play golf because our legs are weak, no one wants to cover us old people for insurance to improve them, and what’s left, a SSI check that never changes with the cost of living but those bills keep climbing, who knows how long we will last.

So we don’t want our neurons robbed by some supplement, or we don’t want to take some new drug that twenty people tried – not much left to do when all those people you hung out with hit the dust. No one drives, no one calls, no one cares when we are all alone eating some fake butter on wheat, and skipping meals. Dry toast and Ginger Ale, still good like we have some stomach ailment – or had two batches of Mama’s cookies without her seeing. I remember, Mama. She gave me stirred up Ginger Ale and insisted on no bubbles, dried white toast, and no wheat. Got better then, but it was mother’s love.

Last month the Government told us not to drink, well maybe longer then a month, and yesterday it was champagne – before that red wine. Now the hops in beer is great for those suffering like Mrs. Wilson, in room 325. We visit a great deal. The doctor told us to party during a meeting at the adult home and I raised my hand to ask, “Doc, whose left to party with?”

Shop owners tell us take a cab down street, because of some damn discount coupons, ten percent off coffee, and then decaffeinated too – ten percent off transportation, if you want to wait an hour – a lady friend wants to use a taxi, so you see I give in – she could barely move since she had to give up her medication for her pain and surgery is not covered by Medicare, so I let her travel in style.

Broadway – just not the same – winds whip up the ole street pass those high rise buildings where some new folks moved in, paid a million dollars to stay here only when the horses run –

Tonight we’re meeting at a place where someone’s telling jokes, and no ones screaming insanity into a microphone. Ten percent off the total bill, no splitting checks – a big sign on the door – us ole’ people split everything – But, we go – old George said if we divide one percent by ten, we can splurge on ice cream – around the corner where it’s cheap –

So Mr. Government gives us advice on how to get in shape – how to do ten sit ups without falling into our own grave – telling us we can go without butter on popcorn, salt, and sugar. Our town is crack’in down on ole folks, want’in us to use public transportation cause we shouldn’t be driven and I ask, “Where do you think we’re go’in? What’s left for us to do?”

Even my family wants me to stop driving too – so – you see I tell’em, “One day you will walk in these shoes, find out your daughter’s son gets paid triple what you did.” And that big place in the city, where you live, it too will look worn down – if you don’t take and keep it up, but you will visit this place, where I live like all the rest while City Hall posts a keep out sign on your property.

Our advice Mr. Government, from all of us slightly over twenty one – close your eyes at night and think of us – don’t ignore our past – read it in’a book if you have to, I know during those years, you were a twinkle in your Mama’s eye, imagine that?

Imagine you making twenty dollars for a weeks worth of work – a letter arrived from the Government; my friends read it to me because they won’t pay for glasses – but I should have turned off my hearing aid since those things you don’t believe in either, aren’t they attached to our body?

First it’s Advil then Tylenol, and gosh don’t swallow more then 1/8th of an aspirin, could cut up your insides – now I heard a whole pill is better. Last week we received green pills, then on Monday, blue. Asked why? They told me a different company making that pill, same thing. Knew they weren’t telling the truth, found out people in all professions, lie.

It’s a shame, damn shame, when no one cares about the people around them, guess they are simply objects in some new game. Never thought too much about old age, but see enough of it around me, thought is was gray hair and bald heads, slower pace – less food – must be bones shrink and stomachs too. The other day I hated to see my friend’s father mix’in up our names.

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All writers are storytellers. Nancy recreates the craft of storytelling throughout a single day - as Author.Ghost Writer.Editor.Motivational Speaker.Advocate.Radio Host. Instructor.Seminars on Writing and working with groups - both large or small - specifics; presenting, organizing, and getting to know your own voice. Presentation in the business world or for radio or performing. She loves the world of fine art as well.

She spent Twenty-five years as a voice coach - defines storytelling and fashions a sentence into many worlds through hearing. After hearing thousands of voices her experience grows within her and she sees it as a vessel traveling through her - as words on paper, voices in the air, or paint on canvas. Writing is the world around us and a personal experience. Nancy knows each day is a highway for a tomorrow. Each voice or word we hear - another story waiting to be told.

"Woman Writer of the Year" Notre Dame College - 1994 - Women in History Month. Nancy writes in several genres – her love is memoir, and non-fiction. She explains, in detail, who is around her, who followed her or by closing her eyes the tone for the next sentence or scene. She has been capturing this in her own life through the eyes of her grandmother from the Island of Sicily, or listening to her mother who sang about her own mother from the Isle of the green. She would tell you each day, growing up, structured he future as a writer; living with an Irish mother and a Sicilian Grandmother. Nancy completed several novels as a ghostwriter, and will be finishing another this fall - "Cursed Roots." Her time - working on her own memoir - has brought her in several directions through the years - learning more about her ancestors as she dug deeper into a true story - surprising even herself. She believes she has stepped into something bigger than she even knew - as she completes this saga. Although she calls it her memoir - it spans generations - 1800's to the present day. Some may wonder what could hold a readers attention? Far too much - so Nancy is considering cutting this story into three parts. Be sure to be on the look out for real life - from Sicily to America, enjoy the good and the bad - life never follows the straight and narrow. Nancy began writing as a young girl in the 7th grade - being the only student in her class published, and fell in love with free verse. Her first chapbook "Just Another Day" followed by "Grandmother's Bleeding Hearts," and "What Brought You Here?" She has material published in journals and chapbooks, literary magazines since the early eighties. She is ready to publish "Yesterday's Child" - "Did you ever want to fly?" and "A Governor's Wife." Her biggest glory will be to see her biggest challenge, one day in front of her, as she has with her eye's closed - in 3D. She has collaborated and published other novels which are now on the market - if you are interested in those titles do not hesitate to ask. Nancy had the privilege to speak out on health care for those individuals needing it the most in Boston, Philadelphia, Albany, Washington D.C., New Hampshire, and several other destinations. As an advocate, public speaker - motivational both in voice and heart - she made it to the White House. She believes, "When you feel strong enough about something, you never give up." She once had a goal; interview all Presidential Candidates, one on one, and she did - a few lasted over one hour.

She was Honored by President William Jefferson Clinton, for her work on “American’s for Disability Act.”

She spoke on the same stage with the late Senator Edward Kennedy concerning "Save Our Security."

She worked for those who are visually impaired. Volunteered for the Federation for the Blind.

She was a member of the Government Relations Com. for the National MS Society.

Nancy returned to N.Y. after three years in New Hampshire, to Saratoga Springs and she began working on the first Senate Campaign for Hillary Rodham Clinton, in her district. She continued to help when the Senator ran for President. She continues to speak out today. She has kept her eyes on the Clinton Foundation, explaining, their goals match many of my own. And, she is excited to see another chance for a woman to fight for a seat, but not any ordinary seat, knowing it is time America does not judge anyone since we are all equal.

Nancy, born and raised in Schenectady, N.Y., and residing more than half her life in the city of Saratoga Springs. Married, and blessed with two daughters who blessed her with five grandchildren. If you asked Nancy what a normal day would be? She would probably tell you - "One thing a writer has is the gift of time. As I mentioned, storytelling happens all day long - did you see how many people waved leaving the bus on Broadway today? I guess everyday is a surprise." She reminds her friends, "an idle mind is for those who have no creativity in their veins." You may one day hear her say, "a mind is a personal cabinet filled with things to do, so don't let them run out."